


Sometimes

by Monsieur_Grenouille



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One swear word but they say worse in Disney movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23414224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille
Summary: Q: IS PETERICK REAL?
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 20





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda depressing, maybe? I don’t know.

Q: IS PETERICK REAL? 

Pete stared at the question, then the keypad, then the man sitting across from him in the hotel room. Patrick had his nose in a book (typical) and Pete was on Twitter for the first time in ages. He’d been asked the Peterick question at least a billion times in the past fifteen minutes. In his mind, there were better ways of saying “Hey, Pete! Welcome back to Twitter!” 

But to each their own. 

The question and it’s reoccurrence was getting to the point where he needed to give a straight answer, even if the answer wasn’t very “straight” itself. 

The answer wasn’t a yes or a no. It wasn’t even a maybe. Peterick only existed... sometimes. 

************************

 _Sometimes_ when they were standing out in the cold midnight air after a concert. When the stars glistened though dulled out by pollution, and the pale, round, erotic moon pulled out from behind a cloud. However rough or smooth, flat or curved, light or dark, the shape of the moon gave Pete a tug in his chest. He’d look over at the singer, who was shivering in his thin coat and gloves, topped by the hat he always wore. Pete had offered Patrick his scarf, but Patrick didn’t want to “be a burden.”

But something about Patrick standing by himself on a cold dark night drove the faint aesthetic attraction into deeper waters. Pete walked over to his friend as reached out for his hand, kissing Patrick’s knuckles just to show he cares. 

************************

 _Sometimes_ when they were in the tour bus. Pete was sound asleep on the couch as Patrick typed away at his laptop. Pete had crashed with his head in Patrick’s lap, snoring as he involuntary nuzzled Patrick’s thigh.

He was known to twitch when he slept, which explained the nuzzling, but Patrick thought it was adorable. The movements were brief and subtle, but sometimes Pete rolled onto his back or side as if expecting some form of affection. Patrick hesitantly put his hand on Pete’s chest. Pete sighed and leaned into the touch. Feeling his lips twitch upward for a second, Patrick used his wrist to gently rub the space between Pete’s nipples. 

**God, I hate the word “nipples.”**

Still asleep, Pete hummed pleasantly. He kicked one his legs like a dog as Patrick massaged his chest, stirring slightly when Patrick kissed his forehead. “Mm, Patrick?” he mumbled tiredly. His eyes were barely open, but he could see the singer through his eyelashes. 

Patrick blushed and began moving his hand away, but Pete snatched it out of the air. He yawned and held Patrick’s hand to his chest, murmuring before he fell back asleep, “Mine.” 

Great. Now Patrick couldn’t type anymore. 

************************

 _Sometimes_ during interviews. They’d get asked numerous questions about their songs, most targeting the inspiration or creative process. But the answer couldn’t only come from one person. There were around 2-4 different perspectives on how the song was written, but it mainly focused on Pete and Patrick. 

Joe and Andy didn’t get all the love and attention they deserved. 

During these interviews, Pete would look at Patrick for an answer and vice versa. They caught each other’s gaze, having a full conversation with one bite of the lip, cock of the eyebrow, or shrug of the shoulders. They’d formed some kind of telepathy over the years, and it helped more than ever with these kinds of situations. Other times it worked with useless things, like deciding what movie to watch on Netflix or whether they should make a sandwich or order pizza (no wait that’s an executive decision). 

Either way, something happened when they locked eyes. It was something only they saw; only they felt. Pete tried to dismiss it as platonic, but there was a strange deeper meaning to it all. He wanted to kiss him sometimes. Not on the mouth or anything, but on the forehead or nose. At least that’d be a little cute. 

**********************

Sometimes on stage, when the crowd was insane and everything was just as surreal as it was when they started. 

Sometimes in the hotel room, when Pete got his typical nightmares and had to crawl into Patrick’s bed. It wasn’t weird between them anymore. Patrick knew his friend just liked to be protected. 

Sometimes over text, when Patrick messaged late at night to see if Pete could make it to the studio. 

**********************

Sometimes in the studio, when the two sat side by side, trying to get the finishing touches put down on paper or on a digital platform. Pete fixes any typos or grammatical errors he might’ve left in the lyrics. He also looks for lines that need touching up, or lines that shouldn’t be there. His handwriting is illegible no matter what he writes, but Patrick can read it like a custom font from Pete’s design. 

Patrick fixes the sheet music, adding parts for effect and taking out measures that made the piece to long or were unnecessary. He snatches his friend’s notebook every few minutes, just to compare and contrast music from poem. He catches frustrated whispers from the chair next to him, and freaks out every so often himself. It was okay, though. They were both used to it and knew how to deal with the other person. They were both reasonably drunk on caffeine and each other. 

**********************

Pete sighed and turned back to his phone screen. The twitter question was still there. Of course it was. It doesn’t just disappear like a genie after three empty wishes. Even though the question was... pretty damn empty. What does it matter anyway? If he says yes, people take it as a joke. If he says no, he’s a buzzkill. If he gives a maybe, that’s just an insecure slap to the face for him, Patrick, and the internet. The word ‘maybe’ is not mysterious; it’s annoying. 

Pete remembered being a kid and asking his mom if he could hang out with a friend, only to hear “maybe.” He remembered sitting in his room and just thinking about if his mom was going to let him hang out with Tony or not. The word “maybe” was useful, too. Like in middle school. People were always asking if he was gay and he didn’t have an answer, so he just said maybe and walked away. 

But that’s when maybe meant “yes” to most people. “Maybe” made people hear what they want. Pete couldn’t be the only one with that opinion on the word “maybe.” 

But what about the only word he’d been really thinking about this whole time? The word that describes how he felt now, then, and probably when. The word he only used to describe each incident. Or recurring incidents. Or whatever. 

Pete looked down at his screen and tapped it to stop it from falling asleep. (Like a little human, haha. Just poke it and it wakes up haha). In a moment’s instant, just so he would lose the idea, he tapped on the text box and typed the only word that could come to mind. 

Q: IS PETERICK REAL?

A: “Sometimes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Clean comments!


End file.
